she wasn’t.’ ‘I wasn’t her only lover—’ ‘Stop it,’ Henry said. ‘You’ve no right …’ ‘Let him alone,’ Father Crompton said. ‘Let the poor man rave.’ ‘Don’t give me your professional pity, father. Keep it for your penitents.’ ‘You can’t dictate to me whom I’m to pity, Mr Bendrix. ‘Any man could have her.’ I longed to believe
